Page 40 of Bound in Ruin

ROSALIA

I can’t bring myself to speak on the drive home.

I’m angry. Furious, really. But not for the obvious reasons.

Like I told Dante back in that office, I don’t actually need Luciano’s wealth or his money. I don’t care about his fortune. But the sheer injustice of it all irks me to my core. I hate the way the DeLorenzo family is treating me. After ten agonizing years trapped with that pig bastard, I deserve something.

Anything.

Not to mention how terrified I still am, every waking–and sleeping–hour that I will eventually be accused of his death. My heart starts beating erratically just at the thought of it.

Beside me, Dominic drives us back to the estate in silence.

I can tell he’s just as restless as I am—his fingers drum an aggressive rhythm against the leather steering wheel, and his leg bounces with pent-up energy.

He’s pissed off.

Despite the tension thick in the air, a small, quiet warmth blooms in my chest. I liked the way he defended me in that office. It’s becoming a habit of his.

First, he stood up to my father, and now he put Dante in his place without missing a beat. No one has ever done that for me. Ever. I can’t help but wonder why he does it.

I know this isn't a marriage built on love, but sometimes he treats me with so much care—more care than my own father has ever shown me in my entire life.

I steal a glance at him through my peripheral vision, watching his sharp profile as he stares straight ahead out the windshield.

Still, a subtle prickle of unease settles in my stomach.

Something about the sharp, specific questions he asked back in the parking garage felt weird. It almost seems like he knows more about my marriage with Luciano than he’s letting on, and it rubs me the wrong way.

That marriage is wrapped in entirely too many dark secrets. Secrets I intend to keep buried, because the absolute last thing I want is for Dominic to ever look at me with pity—or anything even remotely close to it.

Just before he turns the vehicle through the iron gates of our estate, Dominic slows the car to a crawl and turns to face me, his dark eyes searching my face.

"How do you usually calm down when your head is full of noise?" he asks softly.

I blink, caught off guard by the question, before looking out the window with a bitter, faint smile. "I... I don't really know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was married off at seventeen, Dominic. I never had the chance to learn what I actually like, or what makes me feel free."

Dominic hums low in his throat, a thoughtful, unreadable expression washing over his sharp features. Instead of pulling up to the main mansion, he veers off the main driveway and takes us straight back to his private garage.

He kills the engine, steps out, and walks over to open my door. "Come on."

I step out, looking around at the rows of polished, vintage machinery. "Why are we back here?"

"Choose one," Dominic says, sweeping a broad hand across the collection of classic sports cars. "Pick whichever one calls to you."

A light laugh escapes my lips as I look at him like he’s lost his mind. "What are you up to?"

He gives a careless, arrogant little shrug. "Just choose, Rosalia."

My eyes wander over the sleek, shining frames until they land on a breathtaking, cherry-red 1969 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray. Its low stance and aggressive curves practically scream speed.

"That one," I say, pointing toward it.

A slow, approving smirk spreads across his face. "Hop in."

I laugh again, shaking my head. "Really? Right now?"

"Yes, really," Dominic says, rolling his eyes as if I'm being ridiculous. He strides over to the driver's side of the Corvette, opens the passenger door, and holds out a hand to help me climb down into the low leather seat.